Oh the sisters of vengeance they have not forgotten or fled.
I see them still watching the stormclouds that hang overhead.
And they told me my fortune and someday I'll know what they said,
Though I hope it won't matter until I've been many years dead.
But you who have withered the ages you swore you would save.
Their rosary's strung with the sins they will carve on your grave.
If no one else hears or remembers the cries of the slave
They will count the injustices. They will wait till they're repaid.
Oh mercy is needful. Let me never sully its name.
But mercy can't bear to admit when there's someone to blame.
For the meek to inherit, the strong must be first put to shame.
So the sisters of vengeance I'll heed then, if that's all the same.
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